Blessed Ruins
by Obsidian Angel
Summary: He brought his mouth down to her ear. To everyone else it looked like he was biting it. Leaning a good portion of his weight on her, he hissed, 'My ruin is my blessing, Miss Granger, now you free me from it.'
1. Awakening

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing what so ever. All credit to the wonderful talented J.K. Rowling. This chapter is beta'd by Innogen on Ashwinder.

WARNING: Story contains rape; please read at your own discretion.

CH 1

Hermione was sleeping softly. For once she was sleeping without any nightmares of that horrible night as far as Snape could tell. She wasn't tossing and turning, or moaning and groaning, calling out in her sleep. She just lay there motionless like a sleeping angel. She looked better, he noticed, than she had before. All her abrasions were now healed and her face, once battered and bruised, now showed no sign of her assault of the previous week.

He sat by her bed in the hospital wing as he had done every night since she had been brought to Hogwarts. Watching over her. Why, he couldn't fathom. Perhaps, he felt it his obligation as restitution for what he had done: to protect now, as he had failed at it so miserably when he regretfully, but willingly and brutally, stole her innocence.

He knew this was feeble, she would most likely benefit a confrontation with him instead of having him avoid her, or at least that's what the old coot had told him. Albus knew many things, of this there was no doubt, but he had never raped anyone in his 150 years. He had never forcefully made anyone have sex with his person. How could she know the kind of disgust that Snape felt when he glanced himself in a mirror or how scared he was to be near her? He had never been faced with any of his victims. They had always, after he had his share of 'fun', been killed. He had never looked in the eyes of an innocent, tarnished at his hands. But in its simplicity, this was completely different. None of his victims were his students either—a current student at that. One he still taught.

So, here he sat, hunched over in one of the infirmary's hard wooden chairs, elbows propped up on his knees, chin resting in his hands, in the dark. Just staring at her pretty face, noticing for the first time, the little tan specks splayed on her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, remembering that night. He stayed that way for the better part of the night, but the early morning hours, and many sleepless nights finally took their toll on him.

It would be a bright day today; Hermione unpleasantly thought as she fought to stay asleep, she wanted nothing more than to stay in the sweet bliss of darkness in her dreamless sleep. She wanted to ignore the world.

She restlessly turned over, wrapping her arms around the starched white pillow and pressed her face into it. She opened her eyes, yawning the sleep away and abruptly stopped when she found the black clad wizard fast asleep in the chair next to her bed. Iron fear gripped at her insides.

Her first impulse was to bolt, to get as far away from him as she could; she hadn't seen him since that night. Since he had... No! She figured he kept his distance. But for whose sake she didn't know. Hermione had promised herself that if she were to run into him in a deserted hallway, she would not hesitate to rid the Wizarding world of the bastard.

Hermione didn't want to be anywhere near him. She hated him. She felt dirty from his touch. His hands had been everywhere. Her innocence tainted. He had been her first. Why did he have to rape her? Her parents had been murdered, and she had been raped. She couldn't grasp that fact, yet as she looked over at Snape, she knew she knew. He did manage to keep her alive. Even so, she hurt, and it was all his fault.

She didn't necessarily blame him for her parents' death, for it was the others who tortured and killed them; but she could still feel him on her, crushing her body with his own as he pounded into her….

She shuddered; she needed to stop that. Stop remembering, and move on. She needed to forget, wanted to forget. It was hard though. Sometimes she wished she had taken Dumbledore up on his offer to blank the experience out of her mind with a memory charm but just couldn't bring herself to do it. _What doesn't break us, will only make us stronger_, her mother always used to say.

She couldn't face him. Would not be able to look him in the eyes after the experience they had shared. She had never been that intimate with anyone before. How the hell would she get through Potions?

As she stared at him, she tried, but couldn't ignore his ragged appearance. He seemed so pale. Well, much paler than he usually was. He had always been a foreboding man. His cold demeanor and dark aristocratic dress assured that. With the bags under his eyes she could tell he had not slept much lately. His robes hung off him rather loosely as though he had lost weight, and his face appeared sunken in.

He looked completely different, she realized, when he was sleeping. The deep lines of bitterness in his face, almost always visible, were relaxed, and he looked so young. She had never pondered his age before. She figured he was in his late 40s. But now as she was looking at him, really looking at him, he looked at least ten years younger. But she could see an unnatural pain written across his face. She couldn't figure out if it was from sleeping in the chair or from something else.

She almost felt sorry for him, but quickly waved away that thought rationalizing that she was the victim here, not him. He didn't deserve her pity. Not after the liberties he had taken of her. A shudder ran through her body, her heart tightened and settled in her stomach. She felt sick.

He started to stir. Before she could retreat he opened his eyes. She froze.

It took him a moment to realize he was still in the infirmary, and that it was daylight. He jerked up, straightening his robes, walking quickly towards the door when he realized he was being scrutinized by the figure in the bed. He could feel her eyes on his back. This is why he had kept his distance. This was uncomfortable for him. _What do you say to someone you just raped?_ he asked himself.

She couldn't figure out why he was just standing there. _Why isn't he leaving? Why the hell is he still here?_ It was like time had frozen. He just stood there, standing by the door, his back to her, stiff as a rock.

He was fighting a battle in his head. _Should I just walk away? Or should I talk to her and get it out of the way?_ Without really thinking about what he was doing, he started to slowly turn around. He knew what was going to happen. He couldn't look her in the eyes. He was staring off at some point at the floor.

She waited. He finally looked up at her, and their eyes met. Fear wrapped itself around her, gripping her insides once again. She couldn't breathe. Everything that she had endured and felt that night came back to her in a rush. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out. _What the hell was that,_ she thought. _What is he doing to me?_ Then her mind and body flashed a week into the past, to that night.

She didn't know what was going on downstairs. She had her radio on, a luxury she missed when at Hogwarts, listening to some punk rock group. She had two weeks left until she returned for her Seventh year. She hadn't done too much this summer. She had gotten all her homework done a few weeks into the summer holiday, of course. She had received mail from Ron and Harry every week telling her about their summer and written back accordingly. Then she heard—_crash_

"What the hell!" she exclaimed and turned off the radio. "Mum?" she called downstairs, but there was no answer. "Mum! Where are you?" she shouted as she walked downstairs. She was about to go to the den when she saw the front door wide open and small pieces of broken glass all over the floor leading to the kitchen. She swallowed the bile in her throat that had risen. She was frightened. She fumbled for her wand. She realized it was upstairs. "SHIT!"

She slowly and cautiously walked to the door leading into the kitchen. "Mum? Dad?" She peered in through the door and, before she knew it, she was yanked in by her long bushy hair and pulled against someone who covered her mouth with a black-gloved hand to muffle her scream. Death Eaters!

Five of them stood in her kitchen. Her father was on the floor looking like he had just been cursed. The Cruciatus Curse? Her mother lay on the floor, a Death Eater leaning over her. _No, No, this isn't happening._

"Say a word, one word, you stupid Mudblood bitch and we'll kill them," whispered the Death Eater restraining her in a raspy voice she did not recognize.

"This is good. You can watch, Mudblood," another one from across the room said. The Death Eater over Hermione's mother then commenced in what he had started.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat when she realised what was happening to her mother. She was being raped. "Mum!" She started to struggle trying to get to her mother in vain, trying to save her. Her father started to get up and charge at them, but one of the black cloaked figures in the white masks yelled, _"Crucio,"_ and he started to convulse on the linoleum tile, flopping around like a fish.

It seemed to be forever that she was held in a vice like grip and watching the life in her mother start to ebb away. But the man raping her wouldn't stop till he was finished. Not till he had come. When the Death Eater finally relieved himself inside her, pulled out and stuffed his penis back into his pants, Suzan Granger was dead. _I will not cry. I will not show weakness. That's what they want. I won't give them the satisfaction_, she chanted inside her head.

"So, would you like a taste, my girl," said one of the men now walking towards her. 'Malfoy? That's Lucius Malfoy. I'm sure of it.' Malfoy reached up to her face and she flinched away, she didn't want him touching her but he still caught her chin with his gloved hand. He removed his mask. He looked the same as he always did. His blonde hair was glowing in the light. She looked at her father who looked as though he was dead besides the subtle rise and fall of his chest. 

"Do you want to know what a man feels like?" Malfoy continued running his finger down her face to clutch her hair not to gently at the back of her neck.  
"I am going to make you scream for me."

Then all of a sudden he lurched forward into her, meeting her lips with his, tongue pushing past her teeth, shoving the muscle all the way into her mouth, probing her own tongue. Then without thinking she bit down. She could taste his blood in her mouth, the thick coppery taste making her want to vomit. Malfoy quickly slapped her hard. Her cheek burned from the contact.

"Damn it, you bitch, we're going to make this night a living hell for you. You'll never forget it. We can't have one of Harry Potter's friends, and a Mudblood to boot, live, but I think a little fun and a lesson is in store for you. Crucio!"

She had never felt so much pain in her life. Her skin felt like it was on fire. It felt like her skin was being ripped from her body. She could feel her bones stretching in her skin. Harry had told her of how this particular curse felt but it never clicked until now how much it hurts until it's cast on you. She screamed.

Malfoy let up the curse after a while, leaving her twitching on the kitchen floor. He addressed the Death Eaters. She barely understood what he was saying. One drew out a long battle knife from inside his robe, walked over to her father, grabbed his hair and ran the knife across Alan Granger's throat.

She couldn't do anything but watch. Her muscles wouldn't work. Hermione just stared at her father's prone body, blood pouring out from the gash, the gurgling sound in her father's throat resounding in the silent room. She felt nauseated; she needed to puke. Then all eyes were on her.

Fear crept up her spine to rest in her chest and fall into her stomach to make snitches fly rapidly. She was terrified. _Oh, no. What will they do to me?_

One of the Death Eaters pulled her into a standing position holding her up. "Oh, yes, great fun." commented Malfoy. "Now, it's your turn," and with that he reached for her the hem of her shirt. "No, no, please!" she cried.

"What? You don't want me?" He looked affronted. "Would someone else appease you?" He asked with a nasty smirk forming on his lips. He stepped back from her looking around the kitchen. His eyes stopped on a lone figure she hadn't yet seen leaning against the wall, half hidden in shadow.

"Severus?" Malfoy asked, but it sounded more like a threat than anything.

"Professor!" she cried. "Help me, please!" He didn't acknowledge her plea.

Snape stealthily came out of the shadows. He, too, removed his mask.

"You've been awfully passive tonight. Don't you want to join in all the fun." 

_Would he help me?_ she wondered. She knew of his deception: that he was loyal to Voldemort, was as likely as he was to kiss Harry.

" No," he answered slowly, "I'd rather not."

"Our Lord has been suspicious of you lately. Not much for the art anymore, are you? I am almost afraid to think you've gone sof—"

Snape shook his head. "Only you, Lucius. I do my share for the Dark Lord, which is more than I can say for you."

"You think brewing cuts it?" Malfoy sneered. Hermione looked between them, wondering where the conversation would go.

"If it is enough for our Lord. It should be enough for you. "

"Perhaps, but have you mistakenly forgotten the art of the flesh...?" Hermione's cries rang out over the room as the insinuation set in.

"I have not merely forgotten, just have ignored. You know my tastes. I have no inclination towards those of the age I teach."

"Oh, but, Sev, she is ripe with purity. Can you not smell it, her virgin blood?"

"Voldemort values me because of my position at Hogwarts. I am the only one of us who can even come close to touching the hair on Potter's head. You're a fool to even suggest such a thing. "

"Then why not deliver the boy to us?"

"You know damn well, Malfoy, that I cannot!"

"Rape the girl," and Malfoy shoved her across the room and into Snape, who caught her by the arms in a pincher-like grip. She could feel the pressure forming bruises as he stood her in front of him. "She is nothing but a Mudblood, regardless if she is your student. She won't be after tonight anyway, once Voldemort's plans are finished... or is there another reason you are so unwilling?" Malfoy smirked. "Do you care for this filth, Severus?" Snape just looked at the man interrogating him. "Does she remind you of another Mudblood you so stupidly loved?"

"Enough! You want me to rape her? Fine!" he turned Hermione around in his arms.

"No!" she shouted, pushing him away from her. Punching at his chest and clawing at his hands that tried to touch her as well as his face. She could see bright red blood slipping past the broken skin on his hands and cheeks. He pushed her to the floor. "No, stop, don't do this, Professor!"

"Stop! No!" she screamed as he started to remove her shirt, with long steady hands ripping it down the middle. "Please, don't do this!"

Tears began to run down her face. He ripped her bra from her body, the material biting into her skin. She tried to get up, to break free, but he backhanded her, stunning her to be still. He groped her breasts fiercely.

All her struggling was in vain. He was always able to counteract her movements and attempts to keep away from him. At one point when she thought she could get free, he slammed her hard backwards, hitching her breathing, and hitting her head on the floor's hard surface, making her lose consciousness for a few seconds. He was so much stronger than he looked.

Her head hurt, the pain of the blow to her head making her dizzy. She just couldn't fight him anymore. She knew there was no way to stop him. Snape was going to rape her and she couldn't stop him. She tried to ignore it. But it became incredibly hard when he replaced his hands with his mouth, his hot tongue running across her nipples, tugging and biting the light brown buds with his teeth, bruising her skin. She pushed his head away to only find her arms pinned above her head.

His hands, unbidden, continued to ravish her body. He worked her jeans open and roughly pulled them off to reveal white cotton panties, and smooth white skin. His pale hands reached her the elastic band of her underwear and pulled them off. This left her completely naked under his fully clothed state.

She lay back unmoving, unbelieving that this was happening to her. No boy at school, no man, had ever seen her body before. She had never been touched as intimately as Snape was touching her now. His hands bruisingly rubbed up and down her inner thigh, scaring her even more to realize that her body was responding to his ministrations, wetting his fingers with her juices.

"No, please," she groaned. Snape brought up his hand up to her face.

"Lick them clean."

She looked into his emotionless black eyes. He looked dead serious.

"Professor..." She turned her face away. He grabbed her by the neck choking her bringing her face back up. But Hermione had her mouth and teeth closed tight and wouldn't give him that opportunity. He raised one of his infamous eyebrows at her.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" He sucked on his index finger cleaning her womanly juices off it. Her breath caught in her throat. "Mmm, you taste good," licking another. She couldn't bloody believe it. He brought his head down fast capturing her lips, shoving his tongue into her mouth making her taste herself on his tongue.

With him still kissing her, he leaned over her. Hermione had never been this close to him. She could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him, his lean muscles stretching over bone as he moved, could smell his manly scent. For the first time she realized he wasn't just her teacher, but a man. He wasn't just a recluse of the dungeons of her school. He was a man who had blood pumping through his veins, a man who had carnal needs like any other human beings. Of this she knew when she felt his bulging erection against her thigh through his pants. She shifted over wanting to avoid the lower half of his body. He stopped her movement with his hands on her hip.

He lifted himself up and released his already leaking member from its depths. She was about to be raped by her teacher, by Severus Snape. He was going to fuck her, whether she wanted it or not. She wanted to die. She looked away. She didn't want to look at him. Would it help if she thought of someone else? Maybe it would make it better. When the head of his erect penis made contact with her entrance, she couldn't help but cry out and attempt one last time for him to stop. 

"Traitor!"

She got the response she wanted. Snape looked at her in disbelief.

"What is this, Professor?" She chokes out. "Whose side are you really on? You help us, spying, you say, on Voldemort. Hell, it was you who leaked out the information about the attack on the ministry last May and now this?"

At that admission, realization dawned in Malfoy's eyes. They had known someone in their midst was telling someone on about their plans, but no one knew who.

Hermione looked Snape in the eyes defiantly. "If your're going to ruin me, then by God, I will ruin you," she said, looking him straight into his black eyes, not caring what the implications of her admission would be. Then the look in his eyes made her bravery falter; the pained expression they had soon turned into one of mock acceptance, which scared her. _Oh, God, what have I done?_

He brought his mouth down to her ear. To everyone else it looked like he was biting it. Leaning a good portion of his weight on her, he hissed, "My ruin is my blessing, Miss Granger, now you free me from it." Then all at once he plunged into her unready tightness and she was blinded.

A blinding seared through her core, the tearing of the tissue causing her to cry out as his cock sheathed inside her. She closed her eyes shut trying to will the pain away. She had never imagined anything like this. Never imagined it would hurt this much. She couldn't think. The intrusion was big and burned her insides.

He pulled out and thrust forward into her again. She screamed. It felt unnatural, the way his penis pushed through her insides. _He'll tear me apart_, she thought. Hermione pushed at Snape's stomach, trying to pull his cock from within her. He just put more force on his thrusts, smashing her beneath his body. She felt her insides rip apart, trying to stretch to accommodate his dick's intrusion.

"Oh, God, please, stop! No!" She pleaded with him. He was ignoring her not looking at her face but concentrating on what he was doing. Hermione bit her tongue determined not to scream again. 'Is this what my mother felt?' she wondered.

She opened her eyes and caught some of the other Death Eaters running their hands up and down their shafts through their robes. She looked up at Snape who was panting heavily as he rocked their bodies back and forth. His long lanky hair curtained his face hiding his face and his eyes.

He kissed her again. She tried to pull back. He bit at her already swollen lips, his tongue in her mouth moving in time with his thrusts and groped at her breasts painfully. She bit down on his tongue and he raised his head to lick the blood pleasurably off his lips. She turned from him in disgust.

His ministrations became rapid and more urgent, pounding into her again and again. She could feel warm a warm sticky fluid form between them, coming from inside her. Finally, with one last thrust of his hips, his engorged penis released its semen inside her. She screamed so loud with her voice so hoarse her throat hurt.

He slowly removed his penis from her, sliding easily from within her folds. Her muscles immediately and painfully contracted from his withdraw. Hermione saw her own blood on him, his dick dyed red before he put himself to rights. She felt empty; she felt numb. She couldn't move.

Hermione barely remembered what happened afterwards besides the Aurors arriving and the Death Eaters apparating away. She had woken up in the hospital wing only two days after coming to Hogwarts for medical attention. 

"I'm so, so sorry," his apology bringing her out of her reverie.

He was sitting right across from her on the cold stone floor, his head in his hands. She didn't know what to do, or to think. Hermione knew of some of the things that Voldemort's followers were famous for doing to their victims. She knew he had participated in many of their activities before. He had raped before, once being a true Death Eater. So if he had, if he was the monster she knew he was, why was he doing this to himself?

She was confused.

"I don't know what to do," it sounded like it hurt him to speak, "for you... I..." He sighed and just stopped.

Hermione didn't know why but she was scared. Terrified of the man before her for what he had done, and for the stranger he exhibited as on his knees. The turmoil had brought him to the ground and she didn't know what to do. This wasn't the man who had raped her. He had been vicious and relentless, his black eyes blazing with hatred and lust. The man crouched on the floor of the hospital wing torturing himself. She found she didn't know either of them.

She had kept her feelings inside, not talking much about the night she had been raped. She had no one to speak to about it, anyway. Rather, she didn't want to discuss it, especially not with the Headmaster or her head of house. It was awkward enough to have Madame Pomfrey poking and prodding at her mind and body. She kept that night locked away in the back of her mind.

She had thought long and hard about her experience. She was sure it would have been worse had Malfoy been the one to violate her. But it made it perhaps even more uncomfortable that Snape was her professor, and had been for six years. She was supposed to respect and look up to him as an authority figure. Well, it was pretty damn hard to respect him when Snape, the trusted scholar that he supposedly was, was the one who had ripped off her knickers, and unrelentingly thrust into her sex.

She unconsciously wrapped her arms around her knees, which she brought up to her chin. She still hurt. It was like a throbbing, aching pain between her thighs.  
She could hear him mumbling and he finally caught her soft chocolate brown eyes with his solid obsidians, to hear him say, "Sod it," more to himself than her.

"I'm sorry. I, I don't know what else to say or do for that matter." He got up off the floor, brushing off his robes, "I'm not here asking for your forgiveness, Merlin knows I don't deserve it, but...," he paused taking in a shaky breath, pacing up and down floor in front of her bed, "I am truly sorry and I know," another pause, "I know that there is nothing that I can do to condone for what I have done to you. Nothing I do will ever be enough. I took something special from you. I can't," he swallowed his nervousness, "give back what I've taken. I'm sorry, I am so sorry that this had to happen to you, sorry it was me, I'm sorry your parents are dead, sorry that—I'm just sorry for everything."

Hermione didn't know what to say. But she knew he was right: there was nothing he could do.

"I don't expect, or want, you to accept my apology. I just want you to know that I am sorry."

No, she wouldn't accept it. She didn't want it. She wanted Snape to stay the hell away from her. They fell into a lapse of silence. She still hated him.

"I hate you," she ground out, teeth gritted.

"You should," he countered.

"I wish you'd just die."

"I will, you don't have to worry about that."

Hermione wanted to say so many things, but her voice just cracked every time she tried.

"It Hurt. It hurt so much…what you did…"

"I know. I don't pretend that I didn't hurt you."

"I'm so scared. I can't forget it. It keeps coming back. When I close my eyes to go to sleep, you're there. Waiting, to r-r-rape me a-again." She saw him wince. "I can never forget. I will always remember. I will not forgive you. I still feel…" she stopped, wondering if she should go on. "You," she whispered.

He expected no less, and just stayed silent. With nothing further seemingly left, "I'll go. You rest." As he started to walk out a thought came to her.

She asked, "What will happen to you?"

"Pardon?"

"Well, um, what about what I said that night? About you helping us. I pretty much blew your cover, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. I'm sure Voldemort has been informed of what transpired at your house by now. Your wish, it seems, will be granted soon enough." 

She looked away from him. She knew he spoke of her wish for him to die. She did want him to die a long, painful death. An end, worthy of a beast of a man like him. With opening her mouth, she signed his death warrant.

"It doesn't matter anymore whether I am caught by the Dark Lord or not. I am a traitor on both sides now. It's only a matter of time until I am apprehended by either side."

She just stared at him. He did rape her. If the Ministry knew, would be sent to Azkaban or given the Dementor's Kiss?

He hated what he had done to her. He could see it in her eyes, the pain and confusion she was in. "Is there anything? Anything that I may do for you? Anything at all?"

For some reason, she couldn't help but be hostile to him. Hostility seemed easier to convey. "Curse you, Severus Snape. Only death is worthy of a monster like you."

He agreed. He yearned for the freedom that death would afford him. The horrors he had witnessed throughout his life, the atrocities he had committed over and over stained his soul, as the blood of his victims still refused to wash away from his skin. He could still see her blood on himself.

"I'm already damned."

"Go to Hell!" She screamed.

"This is hell, Miss Granger. Nothing, not even an eternity of fire and brimstone will ever compare to the misery of this life."

She didn't want to talk anymore. She lay back down and covered her whole body with the warm blankets making a cocoon. His voice broke through to her again.

"If it's any consolation, I have turned in my resignation to the Headmaster."

Her silence told him it was time to leave. Hermione listened to his calculating retreat out of the wing. Only when she heard the doors close behind him and his footsteps die away down the hall did she uncover her face.


	2. Dawning

CH 2: _Dawning_

She woke up hours later, this time she was alone and dusk had fallen. She lay there, in her bed, listening to the silence—silence that had never been this loud while she was at Hogwarts before. There was always something going on. Doors opening and closing or whispers in the halls floating around but not now. It was disquieting to her. She was the only one at Hogwarts, well only student, and even at that, she had no idea how many teachers actually stayed over the summer. 

She rolled over staring at the door to the bathroom but didn't want to move. It hurt. It hurt when ever she shifted. The muscles between her legs would clench up painfully. Madame Pomfrey had said it would be like that for a while. There were some things better left to nature the nurse had said. She had to heal on her own naturally. According to the matron, Hermione had gotten off light as in regards to physical injury. Hermione had said nothing at the time, but was screaming inside her head, 'He raped me! I was violated! It hurt! All I feel is pain!'

She continued to lie in her bed, thinking, but trying not to remember all that she had endured. Her mind wandered to Snape's last comment before he had left, _his resignation?_ He would be leaving. She felt comfort in that, in the fact he would be gone by the start of term. She wouldn't have to bear seeing him at mealtimes or have him instruct her.

'Then again he'll hopefully be dead and rotting in a field somewhere.' She sat up amidst the pain as the bitter thought flew across her mind. She had known him for six years of her life, a significant time in her life. Regardless of everything that had happened with her at the school, Snape was always a constant, he was as much apart as the school as the gargoyles hanging off the gothic towers. He was 'the greasy git'—the teacher all the students hated. Though Trelawny, to her, came as a close second.

She had never truly hated him; he was mean, vindictive, but intelligent. A brilliant mind, he knew everything there was to know about the art of potions. Above all else, he was a human being.

Would she be any better than the Death Eaters if she wished death upon him? Is death true justice? What punishment is befitting such a man as Severus Snape? Would Hermione find more satisfaction if he were left to spend his remaining days in a cell of Azkaban Prison, stripped of his dignity to whither and waste away? Perhaps if Dementors still held guard over Azkaban, maybe it would be worth it; or let his soul hang in purgatory for eternity for it wouldn't be much of a loss. Or they could banish him from the wizarding world, to fend for himself in a world where muggles relied solely on industry and machines? What if he was stripped him of his magic? Snape was a proud man and took pride in his magical ability for he no doubt was a powerful wizard. If that was taken away, what would be left for him if he were no better than a squib? Would he driven mad with the physical loss? He deserved pain though; he deserved to suffer for all that he had done to her. The ache inside her heart, the ever throbbing between her legs needed retribution. He should pay for the emptiness he instilled in her. Though death seemed inevitable, she sincerely hoped who ever caught him would make him scream as she did. Hurt him like she was. A wanted man on both sides, neither would allow him to live now. 

She laid back down, pondering his fate...deciding she didn't care one way or the other as long as she did not have to see him.

Down below in the bowels of the school, walked an aging, wizened wizard. Albus Dumbledore had been debating on what he should do about Hermione's situation and what was best for her, but was also concerned for Severus. He reached the stone wall entrance of Snape's rooms and placed the tip of his wand to a broken stone and muttered a Latin password to put down the wards the younger wizard always placed on his rooms. Albus was the only one who knew the password and proceeded to invade Snape's privacy.

The man was sitting on a box looking through another full of parchment, his back to the Headmaster. His hair was even lankier and greasier than it usually was and his clothes were still wrinkled. Snape crumbled the sheet of parchment he had been holding and through it in the fire.

"Severus, what are you doing?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape whirled around on him, jumping up and advancing on him, "Get out!"

"Now, Severus—" Ablus tried to reason with the visibly distraught man in front of him, putting his hands up in defense.

"I told you to get out!" He jerked an arm towards the entrance. Snape turned and resumed what he had been previously doing.

"Would you just listen—"

"No, I will not." He shook his head. "Whatever you have to say, you need not waste your breath. Whatever it is will not matter come tomorrow morning because I will no longer be here"

"I will not accept your resignation, Severus."

"Like hell you won't," his voice deadpanned but resolute.

"We need you. Not in Azkaban, not dead, but here. You are a valuable asset to The Order, Severus, and you know this. Why are you being so rash?"

"Rash? Was I being rash last night, Albus? Should I have killed her instead like you wanted in the first place? Would that have made it easier on The Order...or you? I could not bear to watch her die. He would just find another suitable victim to use for his sick schemes. Her death would not have afforded us anything."

"So you'll leave the next victim open for the taking?"

"Don't you dare lay this on me! I have played your good little automoton droid long enough, taking all your bullshit! You are not going to lay the future of this war on me! How the hell Potter puts up with you, I'll never know. Besides, I'm sure the other order members would just be so delighted with sharing camaraderie with a rapist." Snape read a sheet of parchment before throwing its fate in the fire.

"It doesn't have to be this way..."

He turned his dark gaze back to the old wizard. "I. Raped. Her. Would you get that through your head? Do you have any idea what that means? You have no comprehension what so ever about what I have initially done to her." He stood up pacing in the space the floor provided between the stacks of boxes.

"She was my student! A child!" He furiously attacked a neatly packed box, taking it and throwing it against the wall with the contents shattering in a mess of glass as the box settled on the floor. "I have taught her for six whole bloody years! How can I stand to look at her seeing her childish features still writhing beneath me as I raped her? You can't stand there and tell me that everything is going to be fine! No, you can not—just a child, Albus!"

He was seething with anger, with hurt. The man had no experience in this realm. His wisdom was pointless where it concerned him. It really had always been blind to certain aspects of his life. Albus had no basis for comparison. Snape's guilt was tearing him up from the inside out and, and he even now wished for death instead of the shameful hell he found himself in.

"What you and Miss Granger shared—" the Headmaster started.

"WE SHARED NOTHING! I stole from HER! I have ripped her apart! I have destroyed that beautiful angel! I've damaged her!" he stopped and contemplated that statement for a minute. "It's my fault. I damaged her...," he breathed. He sat back down, staring at nothing, and continued to repeat, "I have damaged her..."

Dumbledore only stood not knowing, for the first time, what to do or say to console this man in front of him. He knew Severus was right. His heart broke for the young man. His shoulders slumped with defeat as sadness took over him with what must come. He continued to watch sadly as his Potions master started to throw random objects into the open boxes on the floor.

"Where will you go?" Dumbledore asked him wondering if he would actually answer.

"I will not say, for obvious reasons," he answered in a clipped tone.

"Those reasons are not so obvious to me, Severus. Explain."

Snape turned to face him and crossed his arms over his chest, "When the Ministry finds out about what I have done, they will come searching for me, and will no doubt believe you know of my whereabouts. But in this case you will not, and; therefore, will be safe from any accusation. You vouched for me once but we both know there is no way around this if I am captured. We both know I will be immediately executed. They don't even need a trial this time."

"May I sit, Severus?" The old man all of a sudden felt frail, willowed by the ages of time.

"Of course, Sir."

Dumbledore moved over to one of the winged back chairs by the fireplace and stared into the flickering flames lost in thought of hopelessness.

"Headmaster?" Snape started but stopped as soon as the man's pale blue eyes glistening with tears raised and pinned him to the spot. Snape had only ever seen the man shed tears once, and that was when he had gotten back to the school from delivering the Potter boy to the Durlseys'. The man had been overcome with grief at the outcome of everything: of the Potters' death, the young baby's destiny, but never before for him. Now he sat rooted unable to look away.

"It is incredibly hard for me, Severus, to begin to understand what all you are capable of, my boy. You came to me once with the hope of incarceration being the most lenient punishment and I pulled you from that fate believing you deserved redemption instead."

"I never deserved anything."

"You deserved some sympathy for..."

"I didn't go to you asking for sympathy!" he spat.

"Yes, I know. I won't lie and say I didn't feel sorry for you because I did." Snape glares at him and the Headmaster breaks into a melancholy grin, "I knew about your family and background and hearing you speak of the horrors you committed... Well, that just made me want to reach out to you more. Everybody makes mistakes they regret later in life and I knew that. I looked past what you had become and saw the scared, lonely little boy standing off to the side from the other students waiting to be sorted that I remember so well. That small boy deserved more than what he got and I still believed that when you came to me."

Snape sat rubbing his hands together in contemplation with his brow furrowed. "You are right, Severus. You have never faced your victims. Casualties are inevitable. We know this. Maybe I am just naive but I never wanted to believe what you told me you did. That the little boy I watched get sorted into Slytherin all those years ago, terrified of what it would mean for him, talk about committing cold-blooded murder as easily as you did."

"Trust me, it wasn't easy."

"I'm sure it wasn't for you. It was just as hard listening."

The two men sat together in silence staring at the flames of the fire dancing along the walls. Snape rested his head in his hand rubbing his forehead in frustration. He felt dead already. He hadn't eaten or slept since that night. He had tried, and every time the smell of the food just made him sick at his stomach. Sleeping evaded him; Hermione's frail, naked body hid beneath his eyelids. He figured it was fair. With her virgin blood on his hands, he didn't deserve to partake in such necessities. That was the least of his punishment, he was sure. It would be dealt with in due time, he was sure. He just knew he was well on his way to his demise but he didn't care.

He finally chose to break the silence. "Once I leave here, I can never come back."

"Yes. I wish it weren't so."

"As do I. Hogwarts has been my home for almost 25 years."

"My, my, you've been here that long?"

Snape just nodded. "I should be fully packed in a little while. I'll leave immediately after. You can have my books or stock the library with them. I don't really care what you do with them."

"No goodbyes?"

"No one will care soon after they find out what I did."

"Then if you must leave so abruptly." Now he was on to the business he really needed to discuss and knew Severus was going to be difficult in this task. "I want you to talk to Hermione before you go?"

Snape's face paled. "Whatever for? What good would come of it? Hell, Albus, she can't even look at me. I can't stand to look at her. I've already apologised but I see that really doesn't matter."

"I didn't mean to apologise, I was aware of you standing vigil over her till she awoke..."

"To find me sleeping a in a chair next to her. Trust me, she won't want to see me again. My mere presence terrifies her."

"Closure, Severus. She needs closure."

"What? What closure? I raped her. What closure is there for that?"

The Headmaster stood up. "I believe you both have things to say and they should be said before you leave. Good day, my boy."

The man left Snape gaping at the closed door. Snape had no idea what the Headmaster was on about. He shook his head and went about finishing his packing, focusing on anything but Hermione Granger.


	3. Sinking

CH 3: _Sinking_

Hermione was restless. She had slept all day and had absolutely nothing to do. Not that the nurse would allow her to do anything in her state anyway but Hermione needed something to keep her from spiraling into madness. She shuddered everytime Snape came to mind, and he did, alot. Even if she was covered from head to toe with her blankets, her skin would still erupt into goosebumbs, sending waves of cold crawling all over her body.

So she just layed on her side clutching the cloth to her body for a pathetic attempt at staying warm. She wondered if she would ever be warm again. Would she ever know the true meaning of passion instead of the sheer terror and shame she felt of it? Who would be next to run their hands along her flesh? Would it be the same or how it should have been the first time?

With that thought her tears streamed down over her nose and cheeks falling into her matted and stringy hair. Her body shook from the tremors of her grief. She had always been careful with herself, never getting involved with guys who were after more than she would willingly share on a whim. She had wanted to fall in love with moon-lit walks and late night conversations. She had wanted to get married and give herself over to passion with curiosity and determination. She always had regarded the act of sex as sacred and wanted it with one man and for one man alone.

She growled out her frustration into her pillow wiping her tears on her pillow case. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. She felt anxious and scared all alone in the hospital wing longing for her mother to hold her. Everyone was being sympathetic to her. Professor Mcgonnagall had come and left trying to get her to talk. From the short conversation with her teacher, the woman didn't know very much. She didn't know it had been snape. Otherwise, Hermione was sure the woman wouldn't have been up there talking to her but down in the dungeons castrating the bastard. She chuckled at the thought, relished it even.

Madame Pomfrey had been in and out to visit and check up on her. Nothing new, just making sure she was fine and comfortable since there was no more they could do. The nurse knew about as much as Mcgonnagall.

What surprised her the most was Professor Dumbledore's visit a few hours ago. He had walked in looking very downcast and settled himself in the chair next to her bed. They sat for awhile in silence while his kind blue eyes gazed at her. Measuring her up it almost seemed. Like he was checking for something in her eyes. Then he started with a simpe 'hello' and 'how are you feeling' before he had jumped to the purpose of his visit.

"I'm sure you know what with the unfortunate fate of your parents that we need to find you a suitable guardian for the time being, atleast until your birthday. You may stay here at Hogwarts until term begins if you wish or you may stay with a relative..."

She had interrupted with, "I want to stay here." The thought of staying with her Aunt Beulla didn't sound very appealing no matter the circumstances.

"That's perfectly fine but we will need someone to sign papers to claim you until you are of age." She nodded in the affirmative. "Another thing is...and I am loath to bring this up what with your experience still very close to the surface, but I will tell you now so that it isn't a surprise when Severus pays you a visit," her features darkened in anger and paled in horror.

"It's okay. He has turned in his resignation and I have accepted it. You see, he is leaving later tonight after he finishes packing. But I have ordered him to come and speak to you before he disappears in the hopes that the two of you might be able to sleep better afterwards." 

Her mouth dropped open. 'He wants me to talk to HIM?' How could he ask her of this? Did the man know how hard it was going to be? Probably not, the heartless old coot.

"I have nothing to say to him!" She surprises even herself raising her voice to the Headmaster.

"Please, Miss Granger. Understand that in due time he will be killed--"

"Good! He deserves it!" Her voice was loud but cracking with the force of her conviction. "I don't want him near me! You can't make me speak to him! He--"

"Has use to The Order! He's our only spy that..."

"They know! They know that it was him who butchered their plans last spring!"

Dumbledore's face froze, his eyes growing big, "But he didn't mention... How do you know this?"

She herself sat still not daring to look him in the eyes, "because I told them...that night...I said he was a traitor to us...and them."

"He failed to mention that or rather he must have omitted that tidbit of information for his own reasons. I don't really know." He was speaking to himself now thinking out Snape's dilemma. He was going out in the open where Voldemort would surely capture him and do unspeakable things to him.

"Severus, Severus, Severus."

Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth. The old man was acting like she wasn't even there.

"I thought it was the Ministry you were running from. You aren't running, you're walking straight to Voldemort, aren't you? Torture at the hand of the Dark Lord is your choice of punishment rather than facing Miss Granger?" He closed his eyes in sadness. "I wish it hadn't come to this..."

Hermione felt hollow. Did she truly care what happened to Snape? Did she care that he found the Dark Lord's wrath on himself lesser of the two evils? Was he truly that scared of her? She should have been happy at the thought but she wasn't. She didn't want him scared of her. She had the right to be terrified of him. It wasn't his place to walk away from her in fear.

"Headmaster?" 

He opened his eyes smiling a little. A play on reasurrance just neither knew who it was for. "I apologise for my relapse. I..."

"You care for him," she accused. He remained silent. "You don't want him to die. Not because you need him for The Order, but just because you care for him...even with what he did to me."

"You aren't the first person he's hurt. He was at one time a loyal Deatheater as you know and had done atrocities willingly back then."

"He hurt me willingly..."

"Yes...I know. He..."

"Don't go off in a lecture of how he did it to save me. How it could have been Mr. Malfoy or how I could have been killed if he hadn't...if he hadn't taken his time...with me."

"Do you believe any of that?"

"I don't want to. He raped me...period. There is no restitution for what he did to me. Every little detail shouldn't free him from blame of what he did to me on his own volition."

"He agrees with you."

She sighed heavily with more to think about. It almost seemed to her that Snape was playing the martyr. "Well, he should," she countered bitterly.

He shook his head in sadness, "I know you probably already know this, Hermione, but it will be the death of him if he leaves."

"I am well aware of that fact, Headmaster. If truth be told I am counting on it."

"If he leaves. Where will that leave you?"

"Free of him."

"And what of the memories?"

"What of them?"

"Do you think with him gone that the memories and nightmares will vanish?"

She frowned at the old man. She remained silent.

"Those thoughts aside, think about his value to us against Voldemort."

"That's all you care about! You don't care what happened to me as long as your precious pet is protected! I don't care what value he has to you! He means nothing to me. He will get no compassion for me! HE RAPED ME!"

"You need him, Hermione, if you wish to heal. Think on that."

She growled in frustration. He was such a manipulative bastard. Playing mind games with her to get her to help him keep Snape safe even after what he did.

---

He stood up and left leaving her to ponder his words. She played out the conversation over and over in her mind wanting to understand. She needed him and that perplexed her. Her logic told her that if he weren't around it would be easier to forget. Why would that be such a bad thing? So for the past few hours she checked off reasons why she would need him at all. The closest she came to was that he could help her overcome the tragedy. She just rolled her eyes scoffing at the thought. If she had gotten pregnant then there was a reason to fret. 

All of a sudden she sat up in realization. She just had to be pregnant. It would make sense, right? What other obligation would Snape have towards her if she wasn't? Her mind was reeling. But if she did conceive, wouldn't the nurse have told her? Or was the matron waiting for a time when she wouldn't overreact. At the prospect her whole body started to convulse. Even the very possibility made her stomach turn in and out. She layed back in her bed trying to control herself.

She could feel sweat breaking out all over her body and her breathing become a hard duty to continue. The thought that she could be pregnant flashed through her mind over and over again throwing her into shock. She vaguely heard the voice yelling above her and felt as two hands gripped her shoulders holding her down to the bed. The person seemed so familiar to her but she just couldn't concentrate hard enough to remember. Before she fell unconscious she felt a cool rag dabbed at her temples and a potion poured down her throat as soft fingers massaged the liquid into her body.

Poppy Pomfrey didn't like to leave her patients unattended to lest something happens while she was away. That was why Snape had been surprised when he reached the hospital wing to find the nurse absent. He would think they would be keeping a close vigil on Hermione. He didn't really believe she would kill herself. To him that just wasn't her but with her being traumatized you never know what she would do. 

He had finished packing and even sent his belongings to his ancestral home with a letter and clothes for all the house elves there. He should have freed them long ago but now since he knew he would never go back, the time had come for the elves to be free. With most of his affairs in order he set out for his last task at the Headmaster's request to talk to the girl.

When he agreed to visit her he hadn't known he would be finding her in such a state. He walked through the double oak doors to find the girl flopping around on her bed uncontrollably. He rushed to her bedside. 

"Hermione!" She shook uncontrollably and even with her eyes open he knew she didn't see him.

"Hermione!" He had taken hold of her shoulders trying to see if he could get her to stop. Then the nurse had burst through the door and in a flash was at his side, dabbing her forehead with a wet rag and shoving a potion vial in his hand.

He didn't hesitate getting the potion into her system. He wrapped his arm around her head holding it still and tipped the vial over her lips and into her open mouth like he had done countless times in the past. Even with the kids' hatred of him he was the only one who could ever successfully get a distraught student to imbibe potions. The headmaster used to joke that it was a rare gift which he always would snort at. If most of them knew who it was who was touching them they wouldn't have swallowed so easily.

Once he had the potion in her mouth he rubbed at her neck loosening the muscles letting the potion slide right down her throat to abate her seizure. Poppy had continued to wipe down Hermione's body that was slowly subsiding from the tremors while he sat in the chair watching. 

"I've no idea what could have brought that on," the nurse admitted.

"Could it have been stress or shock of her situation?" he asked. 

"Could have been but why wait this long for such a reaction?"

He shrugged his shoulders staring at the Hermione's prone body on the bed. He knew the Headmaster had told her of his planned visit before departure out and away from Hogwarts but didn't see why that would have put her into a fit if that had been the case.

When the nurse was done checking the girl she was about to shoo him out of the room, "I'll watch over her tonight if that would be alright. Make sure that this does not happen again."

"That's very sweet of you, Severus. I was going to..."

"It is fine. I won't be sleeping tonight anyway. You need your rest. Go."

"Well, if you insist, Severus..."

"I do, she will be fine. If anything happens I will be sure to alert you."

The woman nodded in agreement. She stayed around for awhile pittling around a little in her office and in the storage cabinets but after a while bid Severus goodnight and headed off to bed with his promise to get her if there are any changes in the girl.

He sat in the same uncomfortable chair he had used all of the previous week to watch over her again. It was as if nothing changed. Almost like she had never woken up. Snape had wanted to talk to her and leave but he would wait. He was curious to know what caused her fit believing that it was him.

He sat unmoving in the dark for almost three and a half hours before he found any movement from Hermione. As she was waking up he moved out of his seat and lit the fire across the way for some light. He stood a good ways from her as not to scare her again. This was going to be awkward anyway; he might as well get it over with.


	4. Clawing

CH 4: _Clawing_

She hated waking up from a deep sleep anymore. Once she recognized the pale edges of consciousness breaching her mind, her heart would immediately begin to race in remembrances of her experience. Her skin would crawl with his anticipated touch that would descend upon her body any second. The worst part is that it would never come. The fear that laced itself around her insides was unnecessary and bred hatred within herself for feeling so scared when she was perfectly free from harm - but this night was different.

The fear settled down like a shroud and enveloped her body; but when she opened her eyes, when she realized she was all right, she caught sight of Snape, and her body immediately turned to ice. She shut her eyes thinking she could just act like she were asleep, but the terror increased ten-fold knowing he was watching her, and her mind immediately played out another rape, but this time he attacked her in the hospital bed in Hogwarts. Her eyes snapped open to watch his every move.

"I don't want you here," she bit out coldly.

"I am not thrilled about being here either," he retaliated. "But Dumbledore, for some inane reason, thinks it will help you."

She snorts, "Yeah, he sure has my best interests at heart."

----------

"Albus?" Professor McGonagall opened the door to his quarters wanting to discuss Hermione Granger with him.

"Yes, Minerva. I am in the study." She walked through the entrance to the next room to find the old wizard sitting at his desk writing something.

"Ah, so good to see you this morning. I missed you at breakfast."

"Mmm. Care to share your secret, Albus?"

"What ever do you mean?"

"Don't play coy with me. I know there is more to Miss Granger's predicament than meets the eye."

"How so?" He knew he should have explained everything to Minerva the first night, especially with her being the girl's Head of House, but he knew she wouldn't understand his interest in protecting Severus. 

"What really happened to Miss Granger? I know you are keeping something from me. Something important. You said she was attacked by the Death Eaters and they murdered her family. What's missing? Why has Severus packed his life up into boxes? Where is he going and why? Why has he taken such a sentinel stance over Hermione, a Gryffindor? There is more to it than meets the eye."

"So there is." Dumbledore sat back in his seat twirling hair from his beard around his finger in contemplation.

"Well?" She asked impatiently.

"You have to promise me to hear me out. I know you are going to disagree with me on the decisions I have made regarding Miss Granger."

McGonagall peered through her spectacles at her companion hesitantly. "Go on."

"As you well know the Granger residence was attacked by the Death Eaters..."

"Yes..."

"Miss Granger was raped, Minerva," he said flatly without a preamble or warning.

What ever the woman was expecting, it wasn't that. Her eyes widened, bringing her hand up to her heart…"You can't mean that…"

He continued his explanation, "Mr. and Mrs. Granger were on the ground floor when the Death Eaters arrived at their residence. Miss Granger walked in on her parents while her father was under the Cruciatus Curse. She witnessed her mother's rape and father's murder before finding herself in the same situation as her mother."

"I thought Severus had orders to..."

"He disregarded them and accompanied the Death Eaters to the Grangers'."

Minerva took a seat on a purple, velvet settee trying to piece together the puzzle Albus was dancing around. It was like a game to him, to feed people ribbons of the truth leaving holes for you to fill up. It was when he didn't want anyone to compromise his plans by their objections that he would send you on a wild goose chase for the truth. But one of her cubs was in the middle of his manipulations and Gryffindor's Head of House was in no mood to play.

"What did they want with the Granger's?"

"What do they always want with muggles, Minerva?"

Her jaw clenched shut before, "What was Severus's interest in being present. I thought he was usually exempt from such _sport_," she spat the word as though it were poison.

"He is…He chose to go…" Albus stumbled over his words. He did not want Minerva to know.

"Does Hermione know who did it?"

He hesitated for a minute, "You know very well that the Death Eaters wear masks."

She was getting annoyed. "If you won't give me straight answers I will go ask Severus, and you know he won't like that." He couldn't hide the flicker of worry that crossed his brow for her to see. She raised her eyebrow in question. "I know you know, Albus."

"I have my reasons for not disclosing such information."

"Reasons you won't share with me? Albus, I am in this as much as you. Why are you continually shutting me out?"

"Minerva...Severus raped Hermione." He said it in a whisper. It sounded despicable to his own ears, and by the look on her face she was about to shoot out of there and murder the Potions master.

"What is he still doing here!" She shot out of her chair. "He is in the infirmary with her now!" She moved towards the door.

"He is leaving. He is leaving and he isn't coming back. Voldemort knows he betrayed them..."

"He betrayed us! Her! Hermione! What in Merlins's name gave you the idea to keep him in the castle after what he did? Allowing him to be near her?"

"He is like a son to me..."

"He raped her! Violated the poor child, and you let him remain in close quarters with her! Have you lost your mind! Have you any idea what sort of psychological damage you are inflicting upon Hermione!"

"Minerva, please..."

"No, you listen! You may care for Severus but your love for him should never have clouded your judgment! The innocent should be your first priority, not their rapists!" She walked quickly through his quarters exiting at haste towards the hospital wing.

------

"He wants me to talk you out of leaving."

"He is a classic fool," Snape said shaking his head. The headmaster would never understand.

"He doesn't care what happened to me as long as you are safe…" She admitted bitterly.

"No, all he cares about is the war. Neither of us personally have anything to do with his decisions, no matter how much he says otherwise. Losing me, means losing an informant as well as an advisor."

"I won't, you know. I won't talk you into staying." She was sitting up in her bed, her knees drawn up with her arms wrapped around her legs looking at a point beyond Snape's person.

"I would not stay even if you tried…I am done being his pawn!" He exploded suddenly speaking harshly. Hermione jumped at his outburst even more scared of him, his voice taking on a dangerous familiarity to the tone he had used the night he growled into her ear. She retreated into herself, visibly shaking.

"I am sick of this life, of living, of doing his bidding without question and regard for others' well-being! I am fed up with shedding blood on his word as if I have no conscience! Letting him remain a saint in the public eye as I am damned a sinner, looked down upon as a murderer and rapist, for what I was ordered to do! "

Throughout his tirade he hadn't even looked at her once. He hadn't meant to go off like that in front of her in the first place. It was the only time he had ever voiced his displeasure at the position he held in Dumbledore's 'good' graces. How he defied one master for another just as controlling and conniving as his previous one. The parallels between Lord Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore were uncanny. They each used people for their own gains, whether it was for world domination or world peace.

"I apologize; I shouldn't have said those things to you."

"You seem to be doing that a lot lately, apologizing when it means nothing to me."

He was a little taken back at her cold response. It was no more than he deserved yet the realization he had created her, reduced her to this recluse on the bed sickened him even more.

"You're still here..." Hermione stated after five minutes of silence.

"So I am," he still didn't move a muscle.

"We have nothing more to say to each other."

She heard him take a deep shuddering breath and exhale slowly and deliberately trying to show his fear, his weakness.

He withdrew an envelope from an inner pocket of his robes, "May I hand this to you?"

She looked at his parcel held in his hand and gave a curt nod. She watched his every move as he walked slowly closer to the bed. He stopped at the foot of the bed and set it down backing away quickly.

Hermione stared at the package in revulsion.

"I know what you are thinking, but it may help you to understand your predicament." He turned then and walked to the door.

Remembering last night, he turned around. "Before I go may I ask you a question?"

"Fine," she gritted.

"Do you know why you went into a seizure last night? Was it...Was it what happened to you or…a mixture of things?"

"Trying to alleviate your guilt?"

"No. Just curious..."

"If you must know...I thought that I might be pregnant," she answered haughtily refusing to look at him.

He hadn't expected that, "You don't know?"

"No one has mentioned it to me. I didn't know if they were keeping it from me for my own good or ignoring it or...I don't know, I just…scared myself." She glanced back at him.

He looked her in the eyes, "You aren't pregnant."

"What would you have done if I were?" She challenged him.

"That would depend on you, now wouldn't it; if by some miraculous miracle you would even lower yourself to bear my bastard child."

"I could not kill it!"

"Oh, I am sure under the extreme circumstances of finding yourself with child by rape by a Death Eater and your _professor_; you would be surprised what you would be willing to do."

"I am not a murderer!"

"Nor am I, by nature, a rapist. We do what we must in times of tribulation."

"Don't you dare emancipate yourself…"

"Do get over yourself, Miss Granger. I was doing nothing of the sort, merely stating a fact…"

"How do you know I am not pregnant, anyway? Were their tests run?" She queried further.

"No, not to my knowledge. In any case, there was no need for tests. You are not pregnant."

"How would you deduce that without proper observation?"

"Because I could not have gotten you pregnant!"

"How do you know for sure!"

"I am sterile, that's why! There is no way in hell you could have gotten pregnant by me! Do you understand! Lucky you, just another _sacrifice_," he spat, "doing my duty for our world!"

Hermione stared at him blankly. Well, it did alleviate her anxiety but also gave her some satisfaction, though she couldn't understand why. She enjoyed the fact that he had indeed suffered, relished it even.

"I leave you now," he backed up towards the door pausing in the door frame, "Don't let this experience wash you away, Hermione. Don't forget to live. Life does not deal you cards you cannot handle. You can overcome this; it does not have to rule your life."

He left her then knowing he would never see her again.

As soon as he turned the corner out of the hospital, a hand connected with his face in a vicious slap that sent him slamming into the unforgiving hallway wall. He straightened up realizing he was bleeding from a scratch on his cheek. The tear in the skin began to burn as blood ran down his cheek. He turned to face the culprit when he was slapped again. 

"You raping bastard!"

'So, Minerva knew then,' He didn't fight back. Why should he? Anything she threw at him would be nothing compared to what Voldemort was going to do. After the woman's foot paid a visit to his genitals, he laid in a heap at her feet.

----------

Hermione just stared at the tanned envelope lying a foot from her feet after watching him disappear. She was waiting for it to burst into flames or shoot sparks at her or something. She figured if she opened it, it would be full of a poisonous powder just waiting to spill over her hands yet she was curious about what it would secrets it held. She worried her lip between her teeth until she tasted the coppery tang of her own blood and reached down the bed to retrieve the letter surprised that her touch did not trigger a bomb or something. She broke the green seal on the back and slid the folded parchment out, and nearly jumped out of her skin when two pewter keys fell into her lap.


	5. Hiding

CH 5 _Hiding_

He did it. He had walked through the great oak doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the last time and managed not to look back in longing. He was leaving his home, a castle that had housed him for his seven years of Wizarding Studies and fifteen years as the Potions master. Twenty-two years waking up under the stone infrastructure that arched up into the dungeon ceiling that supported the rest of the school. No more would he take meals in the Great Hall or have to teach ungrateful brats. 

As Severus Snape walked the short distance to Hogsmeade under his hooded cloak he felt a pang of regret that it was all over. He had hated teaching. He had hated having to get up every single morning to meet a bunch of kids who had no inclination to learn anything about potions. He gave up along time ago trying to get the children to pay attention and take in all he had to offer but after a while it didn't seem worth it. Why should he spend so much time and energy teaching them when they wouldn't give him the time of day? But even so, he yearned to be back in the classroom with his life the way it was.

The run in with Minerva had lasted a few minutes, with him on the floor at her mercy. He just sat quietly, letting her harsh words sink in to his memory. Very uncharacteristic of him, he knew—but what the hell, everything had changed. His stalwart existence could only endure for so long. He had reached the knot in his string.

It was a pity his last encounter with the woman was one of such malcontent. She had spewed endlessly on about what he had done to Hermione. He had a retort for every accusation she made, but kept quiet. Yes, yes, he had raped her. She was alive, yes, but what did that matter since it was him who had violated her. "Raping pedophile," and "child molester," was phrases thrown in, at certain intervals for good measure, but nothing hurt worse than her reminding him of Hermione, and the fact that he had drenched Hermione's soul with fear and dread for the world. Her vivaciousness was a distant memory anymore: a shell of what could have been. He only hoped his envelope held the key to unlock her soul.

Only when the Transfiguration professor's voice became raw and hoarse, did she start relent in her tirade. She stood above him, silent and shaking.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself? After what you've done! After all she's been through!

"All I have needed to say has already been said...to Hermione. I owe no one else an explanation." He rose up from the floor to face the older woman.

"How could you! We trusted you! I trusted you!"

"Have you no sense, woman! Do you honestly think she is the only innocent I have raped!" He towered over her, standing just inches away from her, his inscrutable black gaze staring her down.

"Are you so disillusioned to believe I had never before willingly tasted the essence of human flesh!"

"You're despicable…" She took a step back from him in horror.

She had no idea just how despicable he was, he thought.

"Yes. Yes I am. I am despicable."

"You abandoned your duties, disobeying orders…"

He rounded on her at her at her accusation, "My orders? What do you even know about my orders, my duties regarding my position in Voldemort's inner circle? My orders have been and always were to not interfere with individual raids. I was ordered to sit in the shadows and _watch _all the helpless victims be mutilated and raped. I was to not, for any circumstance, endanger my mission. Not once…since the start of this cursed war two years ago have I ever went out of my way to save incidental victims, not one…until now. Albus would have rather me remain in my lord's good graces rather than martyr myself for a muggle or mudblood. Even if said mudblood were Hermione Granger…now…What say you now to my orders?"

She stared in disbelief at him, "Albus would never…"

"Would never what? Never allow a precious student come to harm? You honestly think he would jeopardize the direction of this war for a silly little girl?"

"Am I supposed to believe you would? Is that why you went to the Grangers'? What were you doing there if she didn't matter to you?"

"Maybe she did…I am not as heartless as you think."

Let them believe what they want. He was satisfied if Minerva would think him noble enough to care for another human being.

"You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"

"I expect you will believe whatever truth that's comfortable for you."

She couldn't stand him. He exuded power and corruption, his aura pulsing with unidentifiable emotion and feeling, and it terrified her.

She shook her head at him,"You are not worthy of forgiveness, Severus Snape," she stated plainly. 

He smiled at her. A true unadulterated grin, mocking…scornful…"I have never asked for forgiveness. Not from anyone." He locked his black eyes deep into her own. "Never," he repeated.

His life ended when he stepped off Hogwarts' grounds; he felt the zing of the magic leave his body. The protection of the structure that permeated the bodies of its occupants just faded from his form like liquid, leaving him empty. The school knew his fate; it knew that he was not to return. This was the end, and Hogwarts understood he no longer required its power.

----------

Hermione sat stunned clutching the parchment in her fingers with the keys still occupying the space in her lap where they had fallen. Keys? He gave her keys? It made no sense. She knew she ought to read the letter but for some reason she was frightened. What did he possibly have to say? Why should she even care? She grabbed up the keys and placed them on her the table next to her bed, and laid back onto her pillows, getting comfortable. Her curiosity increased was getting the better of her.

She unfolded the sheet of parchment and skimmed her eyes over the page. Her eyes didn't get far down the sheet when she turned away from the black ink scrawled across the page. It just couldn't be…Snape wanted her to…He had…Bastard! How could he! She threw the paper away from her once she finished reading the letter entirely down the penmanship of his name.

Hermione slowly sat up, wincing against the pain that laced around her abdomen and surged between her legs faltering her movement. She gritted her teeth determined to make it across the hospital wing to the bathroom…on her own. She let her legs dangle off the side of the bed trying to catch her breath. Every little twist and turn her body made caused the cramp-like pain to shoot through her body paralyzing her. It was ten times worse than menstrual cramps. The burning sensation camped inside her made it uncomfortable for her to sit up but she needed to go to the bathroom.

The stone of the floor was cold against her bare feet and as soon as she stood up straight for the first time in a week, she immediately it her knees as she crumbled to the floor at the onslaught of agony that shot through her insides.

"You bastard! You fucking bastard!" She screamed wishing he was there to see what he had done to her, to witness his masterful work. Her eyes burned as tears flowed down her face and she resolved that she would have to crawl to get to her destination. It was a long, slow process inching her way on the rough, stone floor to the loo. Her knees were scraped up and the ache inside her was a throbbing pulse unrelenting in its torment by the time she actually made it to the door of the bathroom. The porclelain god smiled down at her as she looked upon the toilet. She managed to get up onto the seat alright and just sat there. She never wanted to move again.

"I hope you rot in hell, Severus Snape," she said as she relieved herself.

--------

Snape's journey to the neighboring town of Hogsmeade didn't take long and as he passed the familiar shops and taverns he did not stop his trek until he had come to the gate to the shrieking shack. He planned on staying there until he could figure out where to go next. He was being truthful when he told the Headmaster he had no idea where he would go. He had not mapped out a plan; his only concern had been to leave the castle as soon as possible and put much distance between him and the girl, no, young woman.

Hermione Granger, he wanted her out of his head. He wanted her screams to stop reverberating through his memory. He begged for the feel of her warm body beneath to disappear and leave him alone. Neither seemed to want to quit his mind. All he could think about was her. Why did she affect him so? He hated himself for his weakness, for letting Lucius get to him, baiting him knowing for a fact that Snape would not back down from a challenge, he would not forsake his teachings.

It had been a game he was trapped into during his youth by Lucius Malfoy. His first taste of blood had been a voluptuous young muggle woman provided by his instructor. He was thirteen years old and was given a dagger.

"Make her bleed, Severus," Malfoy had purred into his ear from behind him and he did.

It was messy business and the first slice of sinew and flesh sent a thrill thrumming through his body. It left him breathless, confused and scared. He then watched as the twenty-three year old man took the woman roughly. Her screams pierced into his heart and he cried along with her. He had knelt into a ball upon the floor until she was dead beneath the man's body.

"That, Severus, is how you treat a muggle."

Lucius had not been pleased by Severus's display and had yanked him up from his perch on the floor, pulled his pants down, and invaded his body, still covered in the woman's own blood. Severus learned not to cry after that. He learned that if he enjoyed the lessons he would be rewarded. He learned to like what he was ordered to do and soon was ensnared by the intoxication of warm blood coating his hands. It became his life line.

Prideful and naïve, he followed Malfoy blindly in search of sport. As he grew older the stakes were raised, their success measured in the production of carnage created their own bare hands. Men, women, it mattered not to them. He became accustomed to this way of life. By the time they had joined Voldemort, he had made name for himself for he had become as ruthless as Malfoy, almost as mad as the Dark Lord himself.

They had been original and innovative in their work, carving art work out of the flesh of the people who fell prey to their depravities. Lucius took great pleasure in directly tearing them apart, ripping the life out of the victim from the inside out. Snape, on the other hand, had been more after the mind, to force the unwilling participant to obey his every whim. He loved being able to pleasure them, to make them hate themselves at their uncontrolled response their bodies would have at his hand. Breaking their spirits was his aphrodisiac. He specialized in mental mind fucks and he was the only Death Eater able to make a straight man hard as a rock and moan for more. Once they would reach their peak he would take it away, beginning the physicalities he would then administer. It had been exhilarating and heady with the power he held over people and he hated himself for it. All it took was mindful understanding of the human body and basic psychology to be able to perform as he did.

He had reveled in his gift but soon after his initiation into the Death Eaters, he awoken to a day of servitude, bowing and scraping on the ground at Tom Riddle's feet. His life, once held in high esteem had no importance and reverence. He realized he was nothing more than a pawn in Voldemort's schemes. Nothing more than Malfoy's toy. He was being used for one man's amusement and entertainment and he did not like playing the pet to a lord with aspirations for world dominance and purgatory of all human kind. Snape had never given a rat's ass about the purity of blood. He could care less that muggles were born with the same magical ability as him. Life was life and he would take it, wizard, half-blood, squib, or muggle. He was not about to be part of a movement attempting mass genocide on a set of peoples. It was a futile and pointless endeavor in his opinion. The study of history, wizard and muggle, always showed the utter failure of such missions.

Unfortunately, his thirst for blood outweighed his concerns at being a Death Eater. He would go on raids, perform his duty, and quench his lust. As long as he got the chance to 'play' he allowed himself to be used. It was a trade of sorts. He traded his soul with the devil to be able to practice sadistic dances with bodies, ripe and full of life, his own existence revitalized at the sight of their life force draining into his hands. It had become apart of his life, an intricate addition to his identity. To rid himself of such vices would mean to destroy his very livelihood. It was all he knew, all he had come to depend on.

Snape often wondered why it was Albus Dumbledore's door he had stumbled upon late one night, drenched in blood not his own, and wreaking of death and earth. In the end, the man turned out to be just like Lord Voldemort with different intentions. Each had a vision for the wizarding world and would use any means necessary to accomplish their goals. He had been turned into a game piece on Dumbledore's side yet still played for Voldemort. He worked to bring him down but even after turning himself over to Albus's mercy he never let on that he still enjoyed the destruction and bloodshed he was still allowed to partake in. Every life he took, every body he raped was justified, accepted; seen as imperative to keep the Dark Lord from knowing of his defection; for the information he was able to collect was worth more to the older wizard than a few measly, insignificant lives. Snape never questioned Albus Dumbledore's motives, keeping his thoughts to himself lest his privileges, as he began to see them as, were taken away from him.

After the fall of Voldemort, his inclinations had come to a halt all together. It wasn't like he could practice his hobbies from within a school without detection anyway. Hogwarts soon stood as his sanctuary. It allotted him his freedom, as much freedom as a Death Eater could be warranted under the circumstances. His secret involvement with the Order paid off in the end keeping him out of Azkaban Prison. The leash and collar he was subjected to as a professor of Hogwarts was a far better alternative than a pathetic existence among the wraiths that swept the halls of Azkaban, or so he had thought.

The first few years had been the hardest. It was like going through withdrawal after much dependence on a drug. He was left to his own devices at night and that was when the itch for blood and the smell of fear would overcome him and he would be reduced to a pitiful creature yearning for the return of the Dark Lord just so he could feel real again.

He began to use himself as a source to vent his irrationality on. He introduced himself to masochism with morbid fascination. Never before had he turned his antics on to himself. Playing with his own life was exhilarating, pushing his tolerance to the brink, just to see how much he could bleed before he would succumb to darkness. Often times he wished he would never wake up from the darkness. He wanted it to take him away. His life was meaningless. Before, he had a purpose. He had direction and goals, and once he was appreciated.

He would stand in front of a full length mirror in his bathroom as he slid a knife across his torso, splitting the skin in designs. He would watch as his own blood would pour from the open wounds, see it trail along mixing with the hair at the base at his cock and drip from the tip of his erection. It would pool at his feet, liberally coating the stone around him. Soon his seed would follow and he would eventually sleep soundly to wake to another day.

After awhile he was able to find acceptable substitutes even for himself. There were plenty of whores lining the streets of Knockturn Alley just waiting for a wanton customer and they would satisfy his preferences. Needy whores made for wonderful playthings. They were willing to do almost anything for a pretty galleon. They would let him play his sick games and in the end he had done society a service. No one missed the dregs of society. It was easy enough to get rid of the bodies leaving no trace of blood on the beds or walls. He had taken to visiting the brothel's once a month, the longest time he could manage without doing something drastic to one of the cretins he taught.

Soon, he even found that his talents could be used within the classroom. With ridicule and verbal abuse he learned he could mess with the student's minds. He could get under their skin without actually touching them, forcing them to lose control and because he had authority they could not do anything about it. He had a sense of power even over them and it was spectacular.

Then Lucius had started to visit him. At first Snape had been hesitant to allow the man back into his life, afraid to share his pleasures with the man. He was the reason he felt dead inside. He was the one who had taken away any semblance of normalcy by forcing him to perform deeds at his behest as a boy. He soon found he had to comply to the man's wishes once again. The man was just as thirsty for him as he had been for blood. He allowed himself to be used by him. Lucius would come on occasion to his rooms, would strip with his prick already glistening from need, and take him roughly; relentless in his ministrations. Snape begged for it. Pleaded for it and was rewarded with using Lucius in turn. He would fuck Lucius, dragging his dagger, the very one he had used the first time at the impressionable age of thirteen, across his back and lapping at the liquid he drew forth. In those few years he introduced Lucius Malfoy to the monster he had created.

By the time of Voldemort's second return he had completely given up on his vices. No longer did he go in search of whores or call upon Malfoy for a ritualistic fuck. His entire life had been built on the pleasures of the flesh, his power and control over others, and it hurt to turn his back on the comfort it afforded him yet he did it anyway. He ached to give himself over in abandon and revert back to his sinful ways. Fighting the temptation became a diversion. Whenever he caught sight of blood or watched a student plummet to the pitch below he fought the smile that wanted to grace his lips at hearing the bones crunch as they hit the earth. Bile would turn in his stomach causing him to be sick, a negative reinforcement to stopper the triumph inside him. As Lucius had conditioned him to enjoy butchery, he conditioned himself to hate it, and it had worked for awhile.

Snape learned along time ago that there was no such thing as dark and light, good and evil, for each element lived inherently in every person. It was their actions alone that marked them for who they were. He regretted every single drop of blood he had shed, every body he had mangled. He had been molded into a weapon and had served his purpose. Then, after years of finally purging his waking thoughts of carnage he was forced to revert to the role of Death Eater turned spy to appease both parties.

Snape's redemption lied in the hands of his last victim. It was up to her whether he was damned for all eternity. It would be through her he would find his salvation. Nothing he had ever done before had affected like her rape had. It shook him to the core, terrifying him. It made no sense to him. He had done worse and loved what he did. Yet the last couple of years had taken their toll. He no longer cared to taste his handy work. He still killed yet his art had died out, his passion for the subtle art of sadism was buried itself along with his dignity. He had been reduced to a pathetic shell. He didn't know why but he felt drawn to her. His arms were lined with memories of his victims. For every single one he had killed, a knife had left its permanent mark. Both arms, from his shoulder down to the end of his wrist were littered with horizontal line drawn into his skin. He prayed for the souls of his victims as he would cut into himself. He was a sick, sadistic son of a bitch yet still felt remorse after every kill.

He would be judged before his life was ended. He would be saved before he met his end by the truth of the monster he knew he truly was. He did not want to be remembered as a martyr or victim. He was as much apart of the hatred of the world as the curses he threw. He wanted the world to know he had been a sick, perverted demon who walked the earth for one purpose and one purpose alone and that was to sate his lust. Lust for blood, lust for pain, lust for sex. No matter what he did or what he tried to redeem himself, nothing was ever enough. It was in his very nature to inflict pain on others and relish in it. He raped Hermione Granger because he truly was a monster and even though he was truly sorry and regretted ever letting his darkness touch her he would not hide from the truth. He could never stop. The wickedness within him would always prevail. His life was forfeit and he accepted it. He welcomed the chance to finally feel what his victims had experienced at his hands. One last pleasure sated as his life ebbed into oblivion.

Snape broke into the shack easily enough leaving footprints where his steps upset the years' long collection of dust. He made his way to the room on the top floor where he knew a makeshift bed was located. He had time enough to decide what to do. If he was going to go down he was going to go down on his own terms. As the moon rose high into the clear night sky it illuminated the object he held against his wrist. One last name to pay homage to, one last person to remember.

**So…what do you think? Review please…Feedback tastes good…:D**

**Oh, you will find out what is in the letter and the importance of the keys within the next chapter… **

**Keep your knickers on and I will endeavor to get it posted A.S.A.P…**


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